Friends of Hartfield
by PrettyPet
Summary: Emma is 15, Isabella is 17, John Knightley is 19 and George Knightley is 23. I reduced the age difference by half and placed Isabella and John somewhere in the middle. I've kept the Senior Mr. Knightley alive. George won't inherit the title and responsibility of Donwell just yet. This is also a Crossover I'll include a cameo list at the end of each chapter.
1. Chapter 1

Friends of Highbury

Premise: This story is focused on a young Emma, starting off when she is 15, the first chapter is in the Fall of 1809 (I used the publication date of Emma, and treat the novel as if it takes place in real time).

This story will play with ages in order to make it more appropriate. In Emma's time, it wouldn't have been at all uncommon for a 17-18-year-old to marry a much older man. Men had to make their fortune first or be in a position to support a family. And once they were (usually in their mid-30s) they were often married to women 10-15 years younger than them. The early 19th century was a different time. The 16 year age gap depicted in Emma wouldn't have been a rarity.

That said I didn't feel super comfortable with having a 15-16-year-old Emma pinning after a 30-31-year-old George Knightley.

So I have played with ages. I don't think this will change much but hopefully make us feel a little more at ease. Emma is 15, Isabella is 17, John Knightley is 19 and George Knightley is 23. I reduced the age difference by half and placed Isabella and John somewhere in the middle.

Another decision is that I've kept the Senior Mr. Knightley alive. Basically, I don't want George to inherit the title and responsibility of Donwell just yet.

This is also a Crossover but it will be listed under Emma as it has the most to do with Emma and I don't like how the site classifies Crossover works all secluded in their own dark corner of the site. Boo.

I'll include a list at the end of each chapter with any cameo characters from other books.

* * *

**Friends of Hartfield**

**Chapter 1**

Fall was Emma's absolute favorite time of year. It was something about the smells that wafted through the halls nearest the Hartfield kitchen, rich and robust, full of promise with hints of nutmeg, cinnamon, and thyme.

It wasn't just that, she couldn't deny that it had not escaped her notice that the eldest son of her Knightley neighbors was at liberty to call more often on her father as well.

The summer days had stretched out far and wide, the estate was busy with all the ongoing of the harvest season leaving spans of days between neighborly visits as long as the swaths of barley during harvest. Yes, Emma liked Fall very much.

Pumpkins. Emma realized she also liked pumpkins— not half as much as she liked George Knightley's company but she certainly adored the one he'd brought her.

It was better called a gourd but it was so tiny and flecks of lime green and yellow against the deep forest green colour of the pumpkin.

She couldn't help but think that if she had more of them she would make an arrangement of them for the table in the front parlor. As she only had the one she placed it on her bedside table next to her candle so that she would catch glimpses of it night and day.

The bright colours of the leaves also added to her delight—chartreuses both green and yellow, ornate reds and radiant copper oranges. If the vibrant colour pallet appealed to Emma, so did the sound of leaves crunching underfoot.

It was truly Fall.

She felt so gleeful when the harvest began to come to an end, as she would see her Knightley neighbour every other day again.

He had spoken to her father the previous evening over soup and buttered rolls.

"Surely Emma and Isabella must be allowed to attend,"

She watched from the other side of the room as her father shook his head.

"It's much too draughty for the girls to be out of doors, and at night no less! No. No, certainly not."

"But Isabella did attend last year, I believe the weather was near enough the same and she had an enjoyable time. We host a celebration at the end of the harvest every year and I would be remiss if I did not invite our nearest neighbours. I'm not asking for a decision right away, but at least promise me that you will consider it,"

Her father nodded rather gruffly, he'd consider it. And that was a very good deal from him, for he seldom reconsidered where matters of health were concerned.

"Many other young people from Highbury families will be there," George promised, "It is going to be an enjoyable evening,"

"Yes, yes, I will consider it," he replied.

* * *

"Please, might we go?" Emma begged, giving her best doe-eyed look to her father. She has been listening to the invitation and had been waiting for it eagerly. She remembered exactly how heartbroken she had been last year when Isabella had been invited and she had not.

"I have told you, Emma, I will think about it," her father repeated, it was the same line he had been offering each time, for this was not her first attempt at pleading her case.

"George says there will be ever so many people there," she said, "not just from Highbury but friends from other places, it will be such a grand opportunity to meet others and make acquaintances."

"Strangers?" he father echoed with more of a surprise than disapproval.

"Well, we must think of them as friends we simply have not met yet!" Emma insisted cheerfully. "After all, any friends of the Knightleys may be friends of ours,"

"Well, I also have it on good authority that a certain Knightley brother will be there," Isabella prompted, speaking directly to Emma, "I recall how much you enjoy seeing him, and I'm sure you have heard by now that John will be coming back from University for a few days!"

Emma tittered, "I have heard that but I think you confuse me for another Woodhouse sister," she said the last part under her breathe to allow it to be heard by Isabella but out of her father's earshot.

Isabella ignored her comment, "It would be such a pity not to have the opportunity to see him while he is back. And I did have such an enjoyable time last year," Isabella offered.

"You did have a cold after, and then I did regret it, besides, I'm sure John Knightley will be in Highbury until the weekend, you will certainly see him at church," he told her.

"I had a cold in December father, which was several months afterward; it can be hardly blamed on the Knightley's harvest party!" Isabella reflected.

"Yes, yes. I'll consider it; I've told George Knightley that, I've told you both, I'll consider it and I'll give my answer."

* * *

_Dear George Knightley, _

_Father is still saying no._

_Oh and I do thank you for inviting me to your harvest party this year. Perhaps I ought to have begun the letter with that, but in the interest of not wasting a page, you'll forgive my oversight, I do not have occasion to write many letters. _

_Thank you for the invitation, but my father is not willing to budge on the topic and it is looking like the prospect of my attending your party is grim at best. _

_I know you are a busy man and have other things to consider but if you did have the time, you might not be remiss in asking again to see if __**you**__ might convince him. Although, you may have better things to do, for I realize I am just one individual and there are many other guests, which will likely make the time as enjoyable regardless of what happens in my case. _

_It is the party that I have been so looking forward to all year, Isabella was able to attend last year, only just turned sixteen. And I will soon enough be sixteen; I think it should hardly signify at all. But father, he likens this party to a ball—I have urged that it is not that sort of party at all. It is very much not the same thing, and yet because I have not been introduced out into society yet, he feels it would be impossible for me to attend, but has given Isabella his agreeance. _

_You cannot know how devastating and unfair that feels. For is it my fault that my own birthday is not until Christmas while hers was in June? I have been promised to attend the first ball in the New Year, and that is only short months away, it seems wholly unfair that I should be denied attendance to your event which is nothing like a ball. How can it be that I will be permitted to attend that event which is a real ball, and yet will be denied to attend a small gathering that is a picnic and outdoor activities with friends a few months prior? And hosted by our nearest neighbour and dear friends, whose estate I have visited many times? It all seems entirely illogical and completely unjust! _

_I digress. _

_If you see it fit to try to advocate on my behalf and attempt to convince my father, I would be overjoyed. _

_Your dear friend, _

_Emma Woodhouse_

* * *

Contest to name George and John's father!

a. Richard

b. William

c. James

d. Alexander

e. Other (Your suggestion)

Also, this is a new story plot that I am thinking on (I am currently writing chapter 24 for DCH but wanted to get a chapter posted on this one first!)

Leave a review if you like the premise!


	2. Chapter 2

Friends of Hartfield

Chapter 2

* * *

The trek to Donwell always made her feel invigorated, even if her motivation was less than thrilling.

She stood outside the large front doorway and it felt as if no sooner had she knocked then the door was open. She wasn't sure what was more startling, the speed of it, the fact that it was the senior Mr. William Knightley himself or his set brow.

She was certain it was a tie, between him not being a footman as expected and his stern facial expression; he looked a man at odds with the world around him.

"Yes?" He said, sounding neither pleasant nor happy to receive a possible guest.

"Mr. Knightley," she curtsied, fairly certain she was trembling as she did so "Is your son at home?" she asked.

"Well I am not a mind reader— that would depend on which one you are looking for" he said gruffly.

Her eyes grew wide, she was annoying him she knew it! She was not used to having that effect on anyone—young or old. It was a rather startling revelation.

"Well, as much as I would like to see John as some point, it is George that I am looking for at present— to ugh—to help me resolve a dilemma," she told him carefully enunciating each of her words for she had some fear of being asked to repeat herself.

"George is in the stables," he replied crisply.

"Thank you, Mr. Knightley, I'm obliged to you," she told him politely, almost feeling as if her knees might shake standing one moment longer in his presence.

He grunted and Emma took that to be his version of good day.

"Your father is positively terrifying," she told him coming at him from the side of the stable.

"Well, hello to you too Emma," he replied, leaning over the fence watching the mare standing on the other side.

"Really," she urged dramatically, "I felt I might start shaking! He seems so stern and direct" she whispered moving to stand next to his elbow. "I think he'd wish to squash me like a cabbage worm if his true mind on it were revealed!" she added with a gasp, sounding genuinely astonished.

George Knightley for his turn laughed, maybe at her or possibly with her, she wasn't exactly sure. "Well, I'm glad you braved it all and have persevered!" he commented dryly.

"Why yes, it was rather urgent that I did, so it was certainly mind over matter," she informed him.

"Ah, urgent business—did you get word that my mare is likely to throw a foal in the next few weeks?" He asked, motioning to the horse on the other side of the stall. "Just look how rotund she is getting!" he exclaimed.

"No, I had rather forgotten Juniper would be throwing a foal soon," she shook her head. "Not to say that is not an exciting prospect, it is, but simply that it was not the source of my urgency," she explained.

"Ah, well do enlighten me then Emma," he moved between the bars of the fence to tend to something on the other side.

"Your harvest party is this evening," Emma told him.

"It is, very right," he agreed.

She wiped her hands against her skirt even though they were not dirty. "Father has given Isabella his agreeance," she told him.

"Most excellent," he smiled.

"Yes, it would be and I am happy for her but he is saying that I may not attending this year," she told him.

"Yes, it did seem he was leaning that way," George replied with a sigh.

"Now you will tell me it is a bad idea," she prefaced and then waited with a pause for him to respond to the suggestion.

"I will, will I?" he asked, leaving the task he was doing alone to stare at her directly. "And you are still keen to share it?"

"Yes, because you are my friend I'll share it freely," she told him, pushing the curls away from her eyes so she could look into his unfettered.

He looked so handsome then, and she had been so fixated on her task she hadn't really noticed when she had entered the stables. He had his sleeves roll up three-quarters of the way to be out of his way. He had a touch of moisture at his hairline from exertion and his cheeks held a hint of pink from whatever he had been working at before she entered and his eye looked like raw emeralds in this lighting.

As if believing that she needed so encouragement he smiled, "Very well, share away, you have my full attention,"

"You will tell me that I am very bad to even think of it," she offered batting her eyes gently before continuing. "But father is always very sleepy after eating roast duck –I dare say it is the combination of all the chewing and the fatty tissue that does it, but I was thinking that once he is asleep I will come to the party and only stay a few short minutes—just long enough to see what it is all about," she told him. "It is mostly out of doors so it might be said that I was merely in the neighborhood passing by,"

"Passing by," he snorted, "it's at least a ten-minute walk between the estates –it's hardly plausible to be 'just passing by',"

"Well, I love walking," she retorted

"At night?" he chortled.

"Yes, certainly it is hardly an inconvenience–I know my way by heart –why not? It isn't as if there are vagrants or unsavory characters in Highbury, and besides I'm in the habit of sketching darkened landscapes at present –perhaps that's my reason for venturing out,"

"Interesting," he replied, "and if your father should wake up after his light nap, what then?"

"Then, to all others I'll be bathing—" she told him.

"And Miss Taylor will attest to that?" he asked giving her a critical look.

"I wasn't going to tell Miss Taylor that it was not true. It isn't bearing false witness if she does not know what she is relaying is false," Emma explained

"Ah, so you spare her from the task of lying for you but me, oh me you give the full burden of information," he said dryly with a raised brow.

"It isn't as if my father will ask you where I am," she stated "and if he has ventured far enough to find you then he will likely find me next to you –you'll not need to lie,"

"I need not lie, only harbor a temporary fugitive," he tossed back.

She countered quickly rattling off dramatically, "Oh! Fugitive phooey! We might more accurately say an unfairly restrained young lady, who previously had been given her own invitation to said party and whose father might I add, had said the year previous that she could go 'next year' and who is now seeking for a brief moment a fragment of happiness amongst the cruel and unjust denial!"

"You have a creative spin to everything, I'll commend you that."

"Well?" she asked hopefully.

"Well what? Surely you are not hoping for a glowing endorsement of this tomfoolery plan?" he asked.

"Well, would you leave me standing lonely if I happen upon your party this evening? Or would you welcome, embrace and introduce me to your friends?"

"Why does it feel like I am the bad guy in both of those outcomes?" he asked.

"Please! I'll be forever indebted to you, I'm desperate to play the night watch game," she with so much glee it was hard to contain.

"Emma," he shook his head, "There will always be next year,"

"That is exactly what you said last year! And do you remember how fiercely I was crying then?" he nodded, "this plan, if nothing else, attests to how much I have grown up since then because instead of crying away like a silly baby, I am making a plan that will allow for a positive outcome and far less embarrassment," she told him.

"And what does Isabella say to all this?"

"Please, she'll be too fixated on your brother to even notice me, and perhaps I'll wear a mask to add to the mystique –say you'll treat me well if I came to visit your party tonight," she said changing the subject and plying her expression to be a doe-eyed, girlish one.

"Emma," he shook his head hating the position she placed him in.

"A few introductions, a glass of punch and one game," she told him.

"Emma, I don't think it a good ide—"

"Fine, no punch, that is my final offer—and that way you can say, in good conscience I might add, that I merely meandered by and you can maintain moral neutrality by offering me no encouragement to remain in the form of refreshments," she told him.

"And Isabella, what does she really think of all this?" he asked.

"Well, I haven't asked her— say, what do ladies normally wear to this party of yours? Isabella only said it is not as fancy as a ball—however there are many degrees beneath that caliber," she explained.

"You would do to turn up in a ball gown; it would serve you right for scheming,"

"I'd probably fit right in, or perhaps make other girls jealous, wishing they had worn a ball gown, I have several—I started having orders commissioned this summer. One is such a pretty navy-even you would drool over the colour and silk fabric," she told him, "but I'm saving that one for the New Year's ball!"

"_Even me_? Do remember Emma that it is _me_ that you are begging acceptance to a party tonight,"

"Oh, I only meant it as a comparative not an insult, that even you—with your interests tending more towards horticulture, books and masculine ventures would find the fabric alluring," She smiled at him. "The first day I had it in my possession I couldn't stop running my hands all over it, Miss Taylor eventually scolded me saying I would ruin it," she confessed with a laugh.

"Now, I am intrigued to see it," he told her with a deadpan tone.

"Well, you will have to wait until New Year like everyone else, unless of course father changes his mind about that too." She told him with a dramatic huff.

He didn't say anything to acknowledge the dramatics.

"Please say you'll not embarrass me by sending me off if I turn up to your harvest party tonight," she pleaded.

"All that I will say Emma is that if you decide to defy your father's wishes to attend the party, I recommend you wear something that is easy enough to move around in and that does not rustle when you walk, that would be helpful for the game.

"Thank you!" she squealed with a beaming smile.

"No, don't thank me! That only causes me to feel more complicit!" he retorted.

"Complicit in my happiness," she tossed back - she could stop smiling like she was the happiest girl in the world.

* * *

Yay!

The second chapter! Hooray!

Review to let me know what you think.


	3. Chapter 3

Friends of Hartfield

Chapter 3

* * *

It felt so majestic and exciting, walking the path at night, having slipped out undetected through the back entrance.

It was most exhilarating! The notion that at any moment someone might see or maybe even catch her. It was an odd sort of glee the situation produced, she likened it to sneaking cookies from under cook's nose as a young child. Needless to say it had been a long time since!

It was the smell of the wane of summer, the greenery of the trees, and the dampness result of cooler days, and her heartbeat slightly accelerated as she walked along the trail.

And it all seemed so lovely, being dressed up but not too dressed up and being out of doors at night. She thought maybe she'd plan to venture out again into the nighttime in the future and she wondered if beyond the tree coverage she would see the stars. And if she could, she wondered what would shine brighter, those very stars or George Knightley's eyes in the firelight?

And she could hear the pine needles and dry twigs snapping on the footpath as she walked. And every so often noise, of which the source could only be the party, would become louder. It was organic and changeable, a shout that seemed to echo or then feminine sounding laughter at certain moments. As she got closer the sounds became more distinct, a more boisterous masculine voice, two different tones of laughter, one lady with a high pitch laugh, and another woman whose laugh was less sharp sounding and more melodic.

Emma was abundantly curious to know what the excitement was about, she was almost counting paces in anticipation!

And then she heard a man's voice exclaiming what her ears could make out as real words — albeit senseless to her own ears and mind.

"A donkey, no! What do you mean no?"

A pause

"Well then, a rabbit!"

A pause

"No? How can it not be? Are you sure? Have you read the card right?"

It was met with silence.

"And it is still a noun?"

The same voice but more animated sounding than before, "No, no— a leprechaun!"

"What, what! It's not— ladies I am failing you as a teammate for I am out of ideas!" He announced dramatically as Emma rounded the tree line and now she could see the bodies the voices and laughter belonged too.

"A kangaroo, Edward! It was a kangaroo," one of the women announced, Emma couldn't make out the woman's face but her movements were like flowing water.

"A kangaroo! Damnit Blanche! I should have guessed a Kangaroo—do they really have big ears? I'm not nearly criminal enough to have been to Australia," he offered.

"Yes, I believe so, but certainly bigger than a leprechaun's at any rate," the woman replied with a cheeky tone, her face looking proud and almost as if she impressed herself with her own wit.

"Yes, I'll admit that was a poor guess, a wishful plea of a desperate man," he offered with a dramatic flourish, "I'll not even ask how badly it is we are losing by now, but someone promised a woods game in a few minutes so rest assured my woeful teammates, you will not have to suffer my poor theatrics much longer, you will have your relief soon ladies," he promised with a bow.

"Emma," that was George's warm voice, she knew it anywhere. And she thought for a moment that he sounded a little surprised to see her as if the whole time in the stable he had expected the whole conversation to have been a ruse. She wasn't sure suddenly how she would be received but he followed the speaking out of her name with a welcome and invitation, "Join us," he proffered.

"Ladies and gentlemen this is my neighbour Emma Woodhouse, obviously out for an evening stroll," he deadpanned, and it sounded slightly facetious and the others must have thought as much too because a few offered light chuckles. "She is the younger sister of Isabella, who you've all met earlier –who at present appears to be off with Charlotte Coles and my brother John,"

Emma tensed a little at that, the Coles were here? She hadn't known they would be and on greater inspection of the group before her she saw the elder brother Nathaniel Coles, who she only recognized from church sitting by the outdoor fireplace with the others, who had previously been occupied playing the Charades game. Their presence at this event bothered her—went clear against her greater convictions—although that very thought seemed ironic in its own right, as she was herself sneaking out for this party after all. Could she really claim any form of moral superiority to these Coles at a time such as this? Regardless, she had many reasons not to say a thing about it to her father—in hopes of attending the party lawfully next season.

"A round of quick introductions then, simply for those present," George Knightley offered, "Nathaniel Coles you know—" Emma frowned, that was not what she would have said,

"Yes, I recognize him from church," –to her it was a correction of his poor choice of words, to him it did not seem to signify and he listed off more of the names of those in the outdoor area.

"Blanche Ingram and Edward Fairfax Rochester –visiting from Millcote and the surrounds, Edward has a family connection to our own friend Jane Fairfax," he told her in an aside. Emma did not see if fitting to mention that she did not consider Jane a personal friend, so she bit her tongue and nodded.

"Charles, or Charlie Eshton, depending on the person doing addressing," he motioned, "he's a bit of a man of science and a good friend of Blanche as are the Dent twins, Beth and Mary, or is it Mary and Beth?" he paused as if stumped by it and then chuckled, clearly knowing on from the other, "Beth wears the turquoise colour,"

"A few of my wealthier tenants were invited, they mostly have kept to a group of their own, surely you'll not tell your father that either," he told her, "you know he would not approve," he cautioned.

"I would be rather complicit in doing so, would I not?" she reflected with a teasing tone, containing her own manner of cheek.

"Oh, I should have said _when_ you get caught, don't mention that part to your father," he teased back.

She merely smiled back, focusing her attention on the glow in his eyes-sponsered by firelight and whimsy she was certain.

"Now that everyone is at attention, I thought we introduce the rules and then shortly commence the woods game, clear boundary lines have been set up -you cannot miss them. Torches are set about the perimeter as well. The game is played in two teams, the key of which is that you do not know your allies from your enemy until you confront them in the woods. Ladies, if any of you would like to twin up and be a set of two like the Dents, I'll certainly permit that, merely stand together and I will tie matching colour ribbons to your wrist when it is time for that." Several of the ladies moved then, grouping into little pods as Emma watched. She wasn't keen on having a stranger as company and she saw Isabella and Charlotte Coles, had already moved to be side by side, they had only arrived as he began mentioning the torches. Emma wondered silently if Isabella had seen her yet, she seemed a little bit occupied by her friends, as if John and Charlotte were somehow more interesting than George Knightley. Emma almost chuckled aloud at that, as if that were true –she loved that almost all the eyes were watching him with focus and the persons were aptly listening to George, as he explained the rules with his captivating presence, Emma thought she might be able to listen to him speak all night, with his warm voice and attention to every detail.

He offered, "Anyone who does not wish to play may sit by the fire while I am assigning the teams, then you must remain out of the woods and not provide any aid to either side for the duration of the game itself. "

And Emma thought to herself that he might be looking at her as he said this, as if he were suggesting she sit on the sidelines.

"Now, as to how the game works, there are three creatures –they are team less entities and their goal is to tag active members of either team. These creatures are impartial and marked by a black hood that they will wear for the duration of the game. You will know that you are a creature if you are given a black ribbon as a wrist band. Now, team members, if they tag you, you must return to the fire area and wait for a heroic rescue. The goal overall goal is that each team is looking for the components to create the light that will defeat the creatures. The components are, a two-part base candlestick, they look like this," he said and held up a ring and candlestick holder. The pieces gleamed in the firelight, and he continued "a candle, which looks exactly as you might expect, and for the weapon to work it must be fully assembled and have a flame. You may only use the fires from the perimeter torches to light the candle. Within the woods, there are four sets of each item, no single player may have more than one of each component, nor may they hide other pieces again to make them more difficult for the other team to find. Members of the red or blue team will share the pieces that each player discovers amongst their respective team. A team wins when they have defeated one of the creatures. Once defeated, the hero and the creature will return here to the center and alert my Bailiff, he will blow a horn alerting the rest to the victory. Everyone will return to the centre point when the horn is sounded. Any questions?"

The crowd seemed happy and excited, Emma felt the rules to be rather straight forward.

"If there aren't any questions I will dispense the ribbons," he offered.

"Are you sure you are wanting to play?" he asked her, when he was about to tie the blue ribbon.

"I didn't hear you ask anyone else that question," she told him, if he couldn't see the gleam of excitement in her eyes at the prospect of just such a game he was a fool.

"I thought you might be frightened of the woods, and I wondered perhaps if you didn't pair up on account of not knowing the other ladies,"

"I'm not afraid, and I'll have a hard time racing around and, more importantly winning, with any of those ladies as my partner," she whispered back, "thank you for the warning regarding the light skirt material, and to think I almost wore a brocade" she smiled conspiratorially.

"Oh, how disastrous!" he said with a very deadpan tone.

Her breathe caught up in her lungs as his fingers slipped around her wrist and gentle strokes ghosted across her skin as he nimbly tied a blue ribbon around her wrist.

She played with the ribbon once he finished tying it, looking at him doe-eyed, "Might you be on my team? I'd certainly accept you as my partner, you are fast and smart and I would feel more than safe in the woods with you at my side,"

"I'm certain you know I had _ladies_ pair up specifically for a reason, no mixed pairs but moreover, I hid all the trinkets, and thus have assigned myself as one of the creatures," he showed her the black band around his wrist.

"Ah, in that case, now that you are a creature you can ignore what I said about feeling safer with you in the woods; you are now my archrival," she smirked, "oh and also put aside what I said about you being fast, I was merely being courteous, for I'm certain I am much quicker!" she retorted.

"Oh! Well, I suppose we might find out," he retorted with a laugh and his eyes looked almost as if he couldn't believe she had goaded him and looking so very amused at her. And she knew right then that in his heart of hearts he was happy she was at his party, she made him brighten and brim with laughter.

And she saw it amused him as he walked on, clearly to tie more ribbons on to the wrists of others.

And she would own, to her own self at least, that she felt a wee hint of jealousy as Charlotte Coles giggled as George Knightley had tied a ribbon around her wrist. How utterly classless, Emma thought to herself, if only she had been here under lawful circumstances, then she might have relayed that Isabella was becoming friends with Charlotte Coles to her father, he would not have been amused.

* * *

Thanks, each for the reviews last chapter. I hope all are doing well. I'll have to decide about writing one more chapter for this one before shifting back to DCH.

I'll see how I feel this weekend :P

This is a cross-over fiction. I forgot to list the faces as I promised.

Blanche Ingram and Edward Fairfax Rochester, and Eshton are characters from Charlotte Bronte's Jane Eyre. I believe the Dent Twins are only in the BBC version, not in the original novel.


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